


The second Victim

by Prowl_Fan



Series: Who is Italy? [3]
Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-06-25
Updated: 2012-06-25
Packaged: 2017-11-08 13:33:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 853
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/443714
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Prowl_Fan/pseuds/Prowl_Fan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>America gets caught up in the story...</p>
            </blockquote>





	The second Victim

Italy was home sooner than Germany expected, sooner than he wanted. He had been using the odd utensil to try and pick the lock on the handcuff, but that wasn’t very easy in the dark. All he had managed to do was cut his fingers several times and scrape some scratches into the metal cuffs. And then Italy was home. The Italian closed the door carefully and walked down the steps to the basement, as slow and loud as he could manage, so that his footsteps echoed ominously around the dimly lit and expansive basement. 

Germany scowled at the man as he approached, and Italy stopped just short of stepping in the shattered bowl of pasta,  
“Aww, poor Germany, you made a mess,” Italy used his slightly higher-pitched fake voice, and walked over the mess, picking up a knife off the lengthy table, “Now I have to make one too,”

He smirked, and slid the knife smoothly into Germany’s flesh. Germany couldn’t stop himself from crying out, as the knife dug its way into his leg, until it was an inch deep into his shin, cutting into his bone. Italy twisted the knife around in a complete circle, and then pulled it out, agonizingly slow.

He kept his face a blank slate as he slowly wiped the blood from the blade, placing it back on the table.

“that’s all we’re gonna do tonight, Germany,” Italy stated, a note of disappointment ringing in his voice,” but tomorrow…”

He left, not even a smirk on his face, dead serious. Germany winced, moving his leg so he could feel the damage done to it. Unfortunately, he had dropped the fork-thing when Italy had sliced into his leg, and he struggled a bit as he tore away the fabric of his pants, examining the wound with his hands.

It was bad, he could tell that much. He would probably never be able to walk again, just limp. That is, if he ever got out of Italy’s house. Germany was suddenly aware of how numb his hands were, and how much effort it was taking to move his fingers individually.

He supposed it was because the circulation was being cut off for such a long time.

Gritting his teeth, he ripped the bottom of his jacket off, wrapping it tightly around the wound. And the next thing he knew, it was the next day. America was knocking at the door.  
“Dude, Italy, let me in!” Germany could barely make out his voice, and closed his eyes as it aggravated his headache. Then he realized that he had to warn the younger nation.

“America! Run avay! I’m trapped in zhe baseme-“he started to yell out, when Italy stifled his warning, by shoving a bunch of thick cloth in his mouth. Then he rushed up the stairs, careful not to make a sound, and answered the door.

“Hi, America!” his cheerfully fake voice was back, and the other nation bought the lie immediately.

“Dude, I remembered how you said Germany was sick yesterday, so I thought I’d bring you guys some of my awesome food.”

Germany could barely hear the door open, and struggled furiously against the chains, only managing to aggravate the heavy bruises that were forming on his wrists. 

"Ve~! Over here, America!" either Germany's hearing was becoming sharper, or Italy was luring the hapless nation to the expansive basement. He raced down, glaring daggers at Germany, and disappearing again into the darkness. 

Thankfully cautious, America crept down the stairs, a bag stuffed full of his greasy hamburgers. Germany’s stomach growled loudly as it smelled the unhealthy concoction, and the sound made America’s head swivel towards him, and he called out,

“Dude, is that you, Germany? What’re you doin’ over there?”

Unfortunately, all Germany could do to warn the younger country was to jangle his chains ominously, wincing as the rust stung his wrists while it opened up new cuts on his wrists. The American obliviously walked closer, actually humming a little tune until he saw Germany.

Germany figured he looked like he was a complete mess, actually he was. The man he had trusted for well over 64 years had apparently been a cold killer the entire time, and had stabbed him in the back just as he had been ready to open his heart up.

Anyway, back to the present. 

America gasped when he saw Germany, and to his own credit he wasted no time in pulling the gag out of Germany’s mouth, letting out a ‘Dude,” as he saw the amount of blood the cuts in Germany’s mouth had bled onto the cloth. 

Unfortunately for the unsuspecting nation, he wasn’t prepared for what stood behind him, falling to the floor when the lead pipe Italy held came swinging down on his head.  
Italy then looked up at Germany, and said simply,” Now that I have a new plaything, I hope you get jealous, Germany,”

In return, Germany spat blood in Italy’s face, ignoring the pain as the Italian slipped the knife into his hand, pushing deep until the hilt met the back of it.


End file.
